


A Footing of Sand

by songsmith



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsmith/pseuds/songsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peridan remembers, and gathers his courage to speak of what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Footing of Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [animus_wyrmis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/animus_wyrmis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Long Way from Calormen.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3066) by animus_wyrmis. 



Peridan is quite prepared to call himself Narnian. His family always has, after all, though it was never wise to advertise that in front of the Tisroc’s men, and he’s lived in Narnia now for enough years to erase any bonds the country of his childhood might still have had over him. The ties — but not the memories. So he isn’t at all surprise to be asked to accompany Queen Susan and King Edmund on their journey to Calormen, where the advice of a — not a native. A long-time resident — might be helpful. Indeed, he’s glad his childhood exile, if that’s what it was, can be of service to his sovereigns.

Actually returning to Calormen is another matter. The warming of the air as the ship travels south is pleasant — he’s never quite accustomed himself to the northern chill no matter how fascinating (and a little frightening, legacy of nursery-tales) he finds snow-covered landscapes, and even summers are not quite hot enough to suit him. But when the ship turns into the harbor at Tashbaan, and the scent of the city washes over him (fish and sweat, donkey and camel, dates and desert), Peridan finds himself rooted to the deck planking and half ready to turn for Narnia and the north again.

He spends the next days caught between, not quite Narnian and not quite Calormene. It is like trying to remember a dance one has not done in years; the steps are there but the rhythm feels unnatural and all the finesse is gone. But the longer they stay the more he feels the old land swallowing him; the patterns of Calormene speech and custom come back and he finds bits of poetry springing unbidden to mind. Twice he catches himself before he can address Queen Susan with ‘O beauteous queen’ instead of a proper Narnian ‘your majesty’, and once he bites his tongue hastily on a vow to Tash instead of Aslan.

It makes him short-tempered, and he knows he’s snapping at people. The trouble is, he fears he’s snapping for all the wrong reasons, defending Calormene customs to the Narnians because he feels guilty for slipping so easily into them. He knows many of his countrymen are unhappy here, particularly King Edmund (though that might just be a reaction to Rabadash, who — Peridan heartily agrees — needs to be made to stop looking at Queen Susan that way at once), and he wonders if he should be enjoying quite so much the sounds of the city and the flavors of olives and sesame, mint and dates.

More than that, though, being back in Calormen is reminding him of other customs, of ideas he had put aside and forgotten in Narnia, where they are not quite condemned but neither are they spoken of in public. And more and more his thoughts turn to whether he might speak of them here, and whether he might find a receptive ear if he did. Sometimes in the evenings, when the breezes blow cool off the desert but the heat still rises from the sun-baked city streets, he dares to join King Edmund on the terrace, standing closer than men do in Narnia, and thinks of how he might speak, if only he could find the Narnian words for the Calormene ideas.

But every time he speaks of Calormene things, he sees something shutter in the king’s eyes. It comes to a point the evening after another of the interminable banquets the Tisroc hosts for them, where King Edmund had put the back up of three stately Tarkheenas (old enough not to be susceptible to the young king’s many charms) by discoursing at some length on the difference between Narnian and Calormene courting. Peridan is quite aware the lecture was aimed at Rabadash, who grows bolder and greasier by the day, but he still had to grit his teeth over the lapse in Edmund’s usual diplomacy, and wasted no time at all pulling him aside once they returned to their own lodgings.

The resulting conversation began as friendly teasing and ended in icy, courtly formality, whereupon both men withdrew to lick their wounds, and Peridan’s burgeoning courage shriveled like orchids under the noon sun.

The next day he wonders if he should apologize, but Edmund sends for him to join the party searching for Corin and he has no chance to think on it. Peridan blesses for once the young prince’s trouble-making ways, letting uncomfortable decisions go. There are swiftly far more important things to think of; escape and war and treaties, and only when things are settled at Anvard does he think to seek Edmund out again.

If the king had been alone, he might have stumbled out some apology and settled the matter, for he values Edmund’s friendship too much to leave matters in a mess, and everyone’s spirits are high after the victory. But Edmund is not alone; Lucy is with him, and seeing them together Peridan remembers another awkward courtship and leaves with only the message about lunch delivered, yielding the field hastily in favor of finding a good place for a long hard think.

At Cair Paravel Peridan finds reasons to avoid Edmund, but when they are thrown together in company he cannot stop his eyes from following the king. He minds how he stands, and half a dozen times stops himself from reaching out casually as he might have done in Tashbaan, feeling more acutely conscious of his every move than he has since he got his full growth and stopped having to check how far away the ground was. He regrets, now, not speaking while they were abroad; what might have passed without comment during an idle time in a foreign country is far chancier at home where the entire court looks to its king.

Perhaps it is that heightened awareness of every casual movement that makes him notice. Perhaps there was nothing to be noticed before. Whatever the reason, Peridan is suddenly aware of a returned regard from Edmund; it is harder to keep his distance because the king stands closer than has been his wont, and the shoulder-clasps and back-slaps all the men of court exchange in friendly moments come more often.

He gathers his courage in both hands, and seeks out Edmund in the library. No one else will be there, Peridan knows, to witness his shame if this goes badly. He surrenders all artifice and delicacy, speaking plainly — Narnian speaking. And finds, to his great relief, that it shatters the brittleness Calormen left in Edmund’s eyes, so that they can laugh together easily. The kiss tastes of the good Narnian wine from supper, but also, ever so faintly, of dates and honey, and Peridan thinks he does not have to choose between one of his worlds and the other.


End file.
